


After the Abyss

by themoonowl



Series: Spirits, Sorcerers and Soulful Nights [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: /r/iamverysmart, A couple's fight, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grey Warden Secrets, Grey Wardens, Lavellan/Solas Fluff, Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Romantic Fluff, Solas is kind of a dick, Story within a Story, The Fade, but he tries, kinda cheesy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 19:06:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18597553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonowl/pseuds/themoonowl
Summary: Having stopped the Nightmare and thwarted Corypheus's plans once again, Syl has a moment of quiet joined by her lover. Things turn sour when their conversation turns to the Grey Wardens however.





	After the Abyss

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to zinjadu for helping fix some English grammar rules!

The Western Approach basked in the waning moon's light high up on the horizon, painting the usually orange sand a bluish tint. Cold stone under her, Syl sat on the Griffon's Wing battlements that overlooked the desert, her weary head resting on one of the crenels to her left. Particles of magic from the Fade itself lingered on her skin, like pieces of pollen in early spring. Only they felt alive, dancing even. It was unnerving. Yet oddly satisfying. It was as if the lightness she felt there never left her, her thoughts airy and featherlike, like she could cast a spell with just her mind. It was fleeting with every passing moment, with every pirouette the lingering magic performed around her. She sighed and just sat. Basking in the moonlight; the calm after the storm that was Adamant fortress.

“You make a habit of fleeing your adoring public after every big mission,” Solas's voice sounded from behind her and it was as the stray magic around her nearly crackled from his presence.

“Is my adoring public you by any chance?” His figure was vague through her tired lidded eyes, a smile touched her lips at his sight.

“May I?” He gestured to the empty spot next to her to which she just nodded.

With a slight groan he sat next to her, his weariness visible. She scooted over to him and leaned her head in the spot between his shoulder and his neck as he placed an arm around her waist.

“Solas?” Syl asked, her voice raspy and drowsy.

“Yes, my love?”

“How did you feel when we were in the Fade?”

“It was fascinating. To be there physically…” He sighed.

“Was it like your dreams?”

“In a way. When I dream, there is a freedom to my movements. I am unhindered by the laws that govern the waking world. I am curious about  _ your _ experience in the Fade. What was it like?”

“I felt light as a feather. And my spells were easier to cast. And stronger.” Syl shifted a bit before continuing, “I still feel the magic. On me. On you…” she lightly brushed his sitting thigh with her fingers.

“Interesting. Perhaps your visit to the Fade stirred some dormant senses that lie within?”

“Like what you feel when I sing or play?”

“Yes,” he laughed softly. “It is enjoyable. I find your presence in the rotunda exceptionally pleasant as I paint.”

“Good to know you like to be serenaded.” She scooted even closer into a full hug, to which he responded with a soft smile and a tender kiss; first on the forehead, then on her lips.

They sat like that for a while before Syl disturbed the silence, “Any thoughts on the rest of our mission?”

“Since you brought the matter up, I dislike the Grey Wardens,” he answered with a stern voice. “And I dislike your decision to ally with them after their actions.”

“What is your deal with Grey Wardens anyhow? Do you know something about them that I don't?”

He straightened himself and averted his bemused gaze to a distant point in the desert before replying. “Perhaps that is it. My reason for my displeasure with the Grey Wardens stems from information I find in the Fade. I have not cared to learn the folk tales that circulate in the waking world.”

“To be honest, I didn't know much about them either. I had to ask Blackwall for details but I remember the stories my hahren told about them. They are heroes—”

“And you would believe myth and legend alone on a group so secretive?” Solas's voice raised up. “Enough to want to ally yourself with them?”

“What's your problem, Solas?”

“My problem is ignorance. And believing tales that for all we know could be fabricated to twist reality for the masses in ways we have yet to imagine. And you—”

“I did what was best at the time. Would you rather they run around instead, vulnerable to Corypheus in the wild?”

“It’s just—”

“And you underestimate stories. If not for our tales you say we distorted over the years…” Syl found herself unable to continue. She'd had this argument before, when the two had not yet known each other as well. No matter what she would say, he would have a counter; presented with an air of superiority and disdain. All she could was just stare at his face, hoping he understood, hoping she won't have to explain her people's plight to the man she cared about deeply.

Solas's eyes widened. “I see. I may have touched a nerve. If so, I apologize.”

Syl turned her gaze back at the ever expanding desert. His arrogance always started fights, whether between them or between him and the others in the Inquisition. Her eyes inevitably turned to him again as he sat there, slouched slightly as he always did—the scholar posture. It was a side of him she enjoyed, the ever so curious person, determined to uncover the secrets of the world. Yet clueless and cocky about so much at the same time.

“Vhenan,” he broke the tense silence between them, “What is your favourite story?”

“Of what? The Grey Wardens?”

“My question does not have to be limited to tales of the Wardens.”

“Why? So you can tell me it's wrong in some way?”

“No. To hear you tell it. Which is something I quite enjoy.” Solas looked up at her with his eyebrows close together and upwards. It appeared to be an offering of a truce, something she had not yet seen before coming from him. A truce sprinkled with words of flattery. 

“Solas…”

“I am so sorry for causing you pain, vhenan. I have yet to learn how to confront others in a more gentle fashion.”

“Having respect for other people might help with that,” Syl said with sarcasm in her voice.

His lips pursed and his eyes turned downwards and to the desert below; his expression like that of a mabari that had done something wrong, yet unable to apologize.

“My favorite story is about the Winter Moon,” Syl started.

Solas turned his head in response, as if waiting for her to continue.

“It's about two elven lovers that met on the Long Walk,” she adjusted herself and continued with her storyteller voice. “A winter eve they walked, just near to Halamshiral when a nasty snow storm caught up with them. With no shelter, all they could do was wait it out in a tight hug, hoping that they would be alright, praying to the Creators for the storm to end soon.

The skies eventually parted and the snow around them was basked in the light of a winter moon,” she raised her head to the moon high up the firmament. “Just like this one.” She then turned to Solas, who was watching her with a calm expression, yet a gleam in his eyes.

“But only one of them lived,” she continued, now with a dramatic frown on her face, “Holding the cold, dying body of the other in their arms, the lights of Halamshiral close by and shining alongside the bright moon. Only a prayer for June echoed in the empty forest, sung from the survivor's lips. Once the song finished, everything stood still.” Syl hushed her voice to a whisper. “A single tear dropped on the dying lover's face and as it did, a gasp escaped their lips, the body becoming warm once more. The survivor gained strength and carried the other through the deep snow. Together, they completed the long walk and reached the end of the journey.”

Syl turned to Solas again, whose lips had formed a lukewarm smile and his eyes gleamed at her through tired half closed lids. She smiled back and dramatically bowed—a gesture to show she had accepted his truce. He moved closer, his eyes focused on her lips and with his hand brushed a stray silver strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear and caressed her face, his touch cool and soft.

Slowly, he moved his face closer and his lips gently touched hers. Syl pulled him into a proper kiss, her hand stroking his neck, thumb trailing along his jaw. 

With a thunderous roar the horn in Griffon's Keep sounded, its purpose—a morning wake-up call for the soldiers stationed there. Syl sighed and pulled away, only their foreheads remaining together. Solas's lips curved into a soft smile as he gazed at her.

“So much for our rest, huh?”

“Let us stay a while longer. If I recall, the exercises start in the courtyard. They will not bother us.” He trailed his fingers across her lips.

“Bold.” She pulled him by the back of his neck into another searing kiss. And another. And the sky lightened with the sun slowly rising up from behind them.


End file.
